


Assignment: Earth

by ObsessedtwibrarianOTB



Category: Original Work
Genre: Demons, F/M, Fallen Angels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 09:04:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6417388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsessedtwibrarianOTB/pseuds/ObsessedtwibrarianOTB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonathan is a low-level guardian angel on assignment. In the process of saving the soul of a life-worn prostitute, he meets Nathaniel, an exiled demon from Hell. They're celestial enemies—two beings with different philosophies and backgrounds—but do they have more in common than they realize?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Assignment: Earth

**Author's Note:**

> Honorable Mention in the Pick-Up Lines One-Shot Contest on FreeWriters and Readers (FWAR). This story has AU elements and does not strictly follow established theological canon as set forth in Christianity (or any other religion). If you're easily offended by a less than reverential treatment of religious dogma, then you probably should skip this one.

**SID Case # E28743jo: Anita Koch**  
**Location: Las Vegas, Nevada (Earth)**  
**Physical description: Caucasian female, shoulder length blonde hair, blue eyes, 5’6”, 120 lbs., gaunt, scar over left eyebrow**  
**Sin(s): prostitution, drug abuse and distribution, shoplifting, accessory to extortion, bearing false witness**

  
Jonathan quickly scanned the information floating in the air in front of him and committed it to memory. With a blink of his eyes, the words slowly dissolved and then disappeared. Another SID had just been added to his exhaustively long list of humans in spiritual trouble, but she wasn’t the worst Soul in Danger he’d been assigned. At least she hadn’t murdered anyone in cold blood like the last human male he’d saved. Jonathan had been unable to stop the execution, of course—humans had their laws and he was prohibited from interfering with them or disobeying them—but at least he’d managed to successfully gather the murderer’s repentant soul after death and return it to his Father. Another soul rescued from The Enemy. Another feather of success added to his plumage. And Heaven knew Jonathan needed all the successes he could get if he was going to grow spiritually and move up the ranks.

For a low-level guardian angel, Jonathan’s performance record wasn’t half bad. In fact, it was nearly perfect, (except for a few notable strays of late who’d somehow managed to resist his help. He was still puzzled about those). Yes, he was overworked—because he was so low on the celestial ladder he was given the worst of the SID cases that the higher angels didn’t handle—but he made up for his lowly status by using his abundant charm, enthusiasm, as well as his inhuman powers to his favor. Jonathan couldn’t be guilty of the sin of pride—he was an angel—but successes were richly celebrated in Heaven just like everywhere else, and he was determined to make his Father proud. Saving as many Souls in Danger as possible was for the betterment of all The Host, him included.

Armed with information and a will to succeed, Jonathan started making his way to Las Vegas using the archaic transportation systems provided by his temporary home. It would have been much easier, and more enjoyable, to spread his wings and soar there, but that luxury was prohibited as well.

To pass the time as he traveled, he pondered the mission awaiting him, wondering, not for the first time, how humans could so easily succumb to the vile temptations of The Enemy. If they only knew what glory awaited them after death they would laugh in the face of sin. The only knowledge they had of the afterlife came from ancient texts written by supposed theologians, humans who’d had very vivid imaginations, but, unfortunately, no earthly idea of what they’d been talking about. Jonathan’s permanent home was a paradise, a spiritually perfect utopia. His existence wasn’t death. It was reincarnated life in its most beautiful and purest form. It was belonging to something greater than self. It was life with a noble purpose. It was love, acceptance and joy for all eternity. Human words were incapable of accurately describing it. Just thinking of it made Jonathan ache with longing. He missed his home.

As soon as he stepped off the plane in Las Vegas, his internal beacon—the silent signal that would lead him to his SID—began to softly pulse. She was in this city. Now all he had to do was find her. As the sun inched closer to the flat desert horizon, Jonathan tirelessly walked the baking concrete sidewalks of Sin City, following the strengthening pulses of the beacon and searching for a life-worn prostitute that fit his information. His thick jeans and long-sleeved Led Zeppelin t-shirt drew some curious stares in the 103 degree heat, but he was impervious to both the scrutiny _and_ the sauna that was Las Vegas in the summer. Heat was a mere annoyance in this temporary form he was using, and the long sleeves were necessary to hide the marks of his true identity and rank from curious humans.

The pulse was getting louder and stronger. He was close. As darkness descended upon Nevada with a surprising suddenness, Jonathan rounded a corner in a decidedly seedier part of the town just as his beacon pinged and the pulsing abruptly stopped. His SID was loitering in the glow of a halogen light about midway down the street. With his enhanced vision, he verified that she was a perfect match to the description he’d been given. He casually strolled toward her—trying to appear like just another young guy out to have some fun—until he was standing just a couple of feet from her.

“Hello. Anita Koch?”

Of course she was used to strange men creeping up on her in the dark. She didn’t even startle as his words broke the silence of the nearly deserted street. She calmly looked him over and then laughed.

“Don’t we all, honey?” Then her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Hey. How do you know my name?”

“Someone referred you to me,” he answered politely.

“Who?” she asked sharply. Before he could answer, she waved her hand. “Never mind. I wouldn’t know him by his name anyway. I’d have to see him dressed up in nothing but a condom to even know who you’re talking about.” She smirked at him, one eyebrow raised in what Jonathan recognized as the beginnings of a seduction.

“I’m Jonathan. It’s very nice to meet you, Anita.” He extended his hand across the distance that separated them.

She glanced down at it and snorted. “I don’t see no fifty dollar bill in that hand, which means we don’t have nothin’ to talk about Mister Jonathan with no last name.”

Jonathan retracted his hand, not surprised that his attempt at manners had failed. It often did in the initial stages of a rescue. Kindness was an unfamiliar emotion among most lost souls. They just didn’t know how to react to it. By the time a low-ranking angel like himself was assigned to a case, the SID in question was perilously close to life’s edge and had usually lost all faith in the power of love.

“You look tired…and hungry,” he said softly. “Would you like to go somewhere with me and get a bite to eat?”

She considered him, shaking her head and frowning, her expression one of disbelief. “Somewhere there’s a _Leave it to Beaver_ episode missing its star. Beat it, Ward.”

She turned and sauntered away from him. He followed.

“At least let me buy you a drink,” he offered, as he caught up to her and walked alongside. “You need to get out of the heat for awhile and cool off.”

“I said beat it.” She stared straight ahead as she walked. “Or I’m going to sic Nate on you and, trust me, you don’t want that.”

Jonathan’s wings stirred beneath his skin. His quills quivered, sending a shiver up his back. He’d heard that man’s name somewhere before. Something was very wrong with this situation. Just as he thought it, a dark form appeared out the shadows and blocked their way. He was a fair-skinned male, light hair, tall and lean, and dressed in expensive clothes. Under his intense gaze, an unfamiliar sensation rippled through Jonathan’s soul. His wings trembled beneath his skin in the closest thing to fear he’d ever felt on this world.

“She told you to beat it _twice_. Are you fucking hard of hearing?” the man asked. The softness of his voice was in stark contrast to the pure evil Jonathan saw in his cold eyes. Without looking at her, the man ordered the prostitute to leave. She scuttled off into the darkness.

“I had no intention of hur—“

Before Jonathan could even finish his sentence, there was an ominous click, then he was kissing the business end of a handgun. The cold steel felt like ice against his lips and a chill spread throughout his body despite the oppressive heat.

“You have the right to remain silent—otherwise you may lose some teeth,” the man said in a deceptively velvet voice.

They stared at each other in the dim glow of the lamplight. The man held the gun to Jonathan’s mouth with a steady hand as he scrutinized his face with a thoroughness that was unnerving.

**Use caution. He’s dangerous.**

The warning appeared in the air for mere seconds, then melted away, just long enough for Jonathan to read it and gain an appreciation of the severity of the situation. Such correspondence from his superiors was extremely rare. In fact, this was the first time he’d ever received an extra communication during a case since he’d started saving souls. There was nothing to fear from the gun, since his corporeal form could easily be replicated, so the warning had obviously been meant for something else, something otherworldly. But what?

Then, just as suddenly as the gun had appeared at his mouth, it disappeared. The man dropped his arm and stepped back. “I’m Nathaniel. Remember that name. I want you the fuck out of my city within the hour. Understood?”

Angels were incapable of lying, but Jonathan was great at hedging. “I understand,” he answered, which was the absolute truth. Jonathan was well-versed in the English language and he’d perfectly understood every single syllable the man had uttered.

“Good. I don’t want to look at your face again.”

Like a ghostly shadow, the man melted back into the night, leaving Jonathan alone with his thoughts. He started walking with no specific destination in mind. He had no intention of complying with Nathaniel’s impolite request, of course. He was working and nothing could distract him when he was focused on a job.

Anita was a stranger to him, but during their short conversation he’d seen the potential for great love and happiness within her. The soul she carried inside the wasted shell of her human form was still salvageable, and it was as beautiful as his own. Although he didn’t know her, he loved her with a depth she could never comprehend with her frail human mind. A thug in an expensive suit was not going to stop him from saving her.

The soft, steady pulse of his beacon helped him keep track of Anita as he walked the streets like a happily lost tourist. He planned on monitoring her movements from a distance then approaching her for a second time, preferably in a location as far away from Nathaniel’s territory as he could get. As he strolled aimlessly along, he thought about the warning while he searched his memories for any past conversations where he’d heard the name “Nate” mentioned. Exactly sixty-one minutes after his confrontation with Nathaniel, he found the memories he was searching for, but the discovery only raised more questions.

A sleek black car slid to a stop beside him. A hulk of a man in a dark suit emerged from the front passenger side, walked around the rear bumper, then opened the back passenger door.

“Get in the car.”

 ----------------------------------------------------

He was led through a lavishly decorated casino filled with people, but no one seemed to notice anything strange about a guy—an innocent tourist for all they knew—being manhandled by two goons. Business as usual, apparently.

A room at the end of a long, quiet, thickly carpeted hallway was his stopping point. Jonathan was tossed unceremoniously into a spacious office and the doors shut behind him. His escorts were no doubt standing guard outside. The décor in this room was much more understated than in the main casino, which was of no importance to Jonathan at the moment. It was the man standing behind the massive desk who commanded his attention.

“An hour and twenty minutes and you’re still here. It appears you _are_ hard of hearing.” The man who called himself Nathaniel studied Jonathan with narrowed eyes and a frown. “Who are you?”

“Jonathan.”

“Last name?”

Jonathan hesitated for a beat, then answered, “Smith.” An alias of course. One of many.

“What did you want with my girl…Jonathan Smith?” he asked.

He shrugged. “I just wanted to talk to her and maybe take her some place to eat.”

Nathaniel laughed, but the soft change in his features was deceptive. His humor lacked warmth, his eyes were empty. “My girls like white powder, cock, and money, in that order. Food is way down on the list.”

Jonathan already suspected as much from the emaciated condition of Anita’s body, so he ignored the remark and focused on the more important issue. “And who are _you?”_ Jonathan asked in return.

“Apparently you have no memory either. I’ve already told you my name.” He emerged from behind his desk and approached Jonathan slowly and with caution. As he neared, Jonathan’s quills stirred restlessly with unease.

Nathaniel was in his face now, mere inches away. Controlling his uneasiness, Jonathan held his ground under the man’s searching gaze. Nathaniel was classically handsome: thick blonde hair with regular features, a slim, sleek build, but the attractiveness stopped at his cold grey eyes. Even more disturbing was the condition of his soul. There was a vast, dark emptiness within this man.

“I’m going to ask you one more time. Who are you? And don’t give me that ‘Jonathan Smith’ bullshit. The stench of these filthy humans permeates every inch of this fucking planet and that odor is nowhere in this room. So, you either tell me what you are and why you’re here in my territory, or I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Jonathan’s feathers rustled, then settled. His quills nestled comfortably back into their hidden shelter. Caution was replaced by an intense curiosity, an unfamiliar emotion for him. He thought he knew everything there was to know in this existence, but now it seemed he didn’t, and that was curious indeed. Standing in front of him was another creature not of this world. He definitely wasn’t one of The Host, because his essence was unfamiliar to Jonathan. But whatever he was, there was one thing Jonathan knew for certain: Nathaniel’s soul was in grave, grave danger.

“Good luck with that,” Jonathan said, chuckling softly. “Of course, you can damage this body to the point it becomes unusable, but the essence of who I am is indestructible and eternal. I’m a Guardian.”

At his answer, Nathaniel abruptly stepped back away from him. His nostrils flared, his cold eyes widened with shock, then narrowed dangerously. “Are you shitting me?” he asked suspiciously.

In answer, Jonathan pulled the t-shirt over his head, dropped it to the floor and let his wings escape the prison beneath his skin and unfurl. They arched high above his shoulders, the silken feathers draping down past his biceps and nearly to his waist. Even within the confines of four walls, he felt gloriously free.

Nathaniel gazed in wonder at his plumage, then slowly scrutinized the identifying marks on Jonathan’s arms. A smile spread slowly across Nathaniel’s face; his eyes gleamed with what Jonathan could only assume to be pleasure or happiness.

“You and I need to talk,” Nathaniel said softly, still smiling.

 

\----------------------------------------------  
 

They were sitting across from each other in a small private dining room overlooking the casino floor. One entire wall was nothing but glass from floor to ceiling. Even though they could see the activity below, Nathaniel had assured him the people on the floor couldn’t see them.

“You like the steak?” Nathaniel asked in between bites.

To say he liked eating meat that had blood oozing out of the center of it would have been lying, so Jonathan hedged. “It’s very nice. Thank you.”

Eating was unimportant to Jonathan. It was necessary to preserve the body he was occupying, nothing more. He could identify and appreciate quality sustenance—and the flavor of Nathaniel’s food was excellent—but he could never honestly say he _liked_ any of it, no matter how well it was prepared.

“So, to finally answer your question about who I am…“ Nathaniel laid down his fork and smirked mischievously. “…I’m your red-headed step-something-or-other.”

Jonathan frowned, confused yet curious.

“It’s a stupid human euphemism, which in this case is ironically appropriate,” he continued, chuckling softly. “It’s someone who is—“

“I know what it means,” Jonathan interjected quickly before he was forced to sit through an unnecessary English grammar lesson. “But I don’t know what you mean by _saying_ it.”

Nathaniel smiled smugly. “It means my father was one of The Fallen. You and I are probably related. Isn’t that just the shit?”

Jonathan couldn’t control his shock, his utter speechlessness at Nathaniel’s revelation. It wasn’t possible. The man was lying.

“I can show you the knots on my back where my wings would have been had I been born pure,” he said, obviously reading the doubt in Jonathan’s expression. “My father was an angel, but he succumbed to the temptations of a seductive female demon—my dear sweet mother—and here I am. I self-identify with my mother’s side of the family, by the way, so I always check the little box that says ‘Demon’ on employment applications,” he added, chuckling.

Jonathan was floored, confused, but beyond that, the curiosity was maddening. The mere fact that a demon was sitting across from him in a casino—eating food, talking, joking—was a contradiction to everything he’d been told.

“This…” Jonathan pointed to Nathaniel’s well-dressed, slim body. “…is your corporeal form?”

“It is,” he answered. “Created specifically for me to use while I’m... _visiting._..this fucking retard of a planet.”

This was not right. “Demons are parasites,” Jonathan said with conviction. “They prey off of humans by force. They infest their bodies and feed on their souls until they die. Demons do _not_ own casinos or run prostitution rings in Las Vegas. They do not have their own unique forms and manifest themselves in this way.”

Nathaniel grinned. “This demon does, and I’m the only one.”

\------------------------------------------ 

 

“So, why are you here and why are you the only one?” Jonathan asked.

They were now in a room filled with surveillance monitors; each screen focused on a different area of the casino floor. Nathaniel was staring intently at a close-up view of a blackjack table.

“I’m being punished for breaking a very important rule,” Nathaniel answered, his eyes following every hand movement of the dealer. “My father felt that exiling me here would teach me a valuable lesson and help me discover an ‘appropriate direction’ for my life. Don’t you hate it when you don’t measure up to your parents’ expectations?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued. “Apparently I was demonically challenged, like it was my fault I was born half angel.” He grinned at Jonathan and winked. “But whatever. I’m working very hard to strengthen my evil side.”

His answer made no sense, and his flippancy regarding sin was beyond Jonathan’s comprehension. “I would think living in Hell would be punishment enough.”

Nathaniel sighed and looked at Jonathan with obvious irritation. “First of all, my home is not called ‘Hell’. I find that term to be culturally offensive. Its true name cannot be enunciated properly using this barbaric language, so just refer to it as my ‘home’ from now on. Okay?”

Jonathan offered his sincere apologies for his thoughtlessness. He’d certainly never meant to offend.

“And second of all, my home is nothing like what you’ve heard. Fire and brimstone? Eternal suffering and pain? Nothing but propaganda. My home is a paradise and a place of great contentment for those of us who chose to build an eternal life there. I miss it more than you can know.”

Politeness was so deeply ingrained in Jonathan he doubted he could be rude even if he wanted to, but Nathaniel was sorely testing him with his misinformation. Jonathan struggled to keep the frown from his face, but failed. “They didn’t _choose_ to live there. They were cast out of Heaven and _forced_ to live there.”

With his hands thrust deep into his trouser pockets, Nathaniel shook his head and laughed. “What in the world do they put in your Kool-Aid up there? The Fallen weren’t cast out. They left voluntarily. They disapproved of the way the place was being ran. It was a cultural divide between two differing factions, one that couldn’t be resolved amicably. And we weren’t kicked out of Heaven’s Gate on our asses and into some fiery pit of eternal misery. We freely chose the world we occupy now.”

Jonathan sighed. Nathaniel was more lost than he’d initially thought. Not only was his soul in mortal danger, but he also possessed a woefully inaccurate view of celestial history. It was common knowledge that the Fallen Angels were disobedient, rebellious and because of their excessive wickedness, their Father had been forced to cast them out of Heaven. Their punishment was a permanent state of separation from their one true home.

“And to answer the first part of your question—why am I here?—I’m here to make these pathetic humans utterly miserable. I tempt them into committing the most horrendous sins possible, so that when they croak I can claim their souls as ours and bring them to _my_ home where they can live in beautiful and glorious hedonistic freedom for the rest of their eternal lives, and not waste away in that socialistic hippy commune you call Heaven.”

Jonathan closed his eyes and silently prayed: _Dear Heavenly Father, please forgive me for thinking ill of another being, but this man is insane. In your infinite wisdom, I implore you to direct me on how to handle him, since it’s obvious I’m woefully ignorant on how to deal with demons. And if possible, please give me direction on how I might go about saving his soul. I’m forever your faithful and obedient servant. Amen._

“Christ on a bike!! That asshole is trying to cheat the house!”

Jonathan watched, both fascinated and repulsed, as Nathaniel got on a house phone and gave the floor instructions to ‘Ruin the little bastard’s life and take him for every goddamned fucking dime he has! RUIN HIM!!’

He hung up the phone and turned to Jonathan. He straightened his suit jacket, took a deep breath and smiled. “Now. Where were we?”

 

\---------------------------------------

 

“How about me and you have some Sex on a Beach?” Nathaniel suggested as they returned to the private dining room to watch the ruining of a man’s life unfold on the floor below.

He must have noticed the deep disapproval on Jonathan’s face because he stopped and laughed uproariously. “Relax. There are no beaches in Nevada. Sex on a Beach is a cocktail.” He was still snickering as he texted someone, then within minutes two tall drinks were placed on the table.

Jonathan politely sipped the drink as he was forced to listen to Nathaniel’s warped commentary about their respective homes. Jonathan’s mouth nearly dropped to the floor when Nathaniel described Hell as a utopia of personal freedom and liberty, a society with a strong sense of social justice and fairness for all its pleasure-seeking citizens. And Jonathan actually choked on his drink when he stated Heaven was nothing but a mindless hive of socially oppressed worker bees sentenced to an eternity of menial servitude under the “noble” guise of spreading happiness all over the cosmos.

“Oh look!” Nathaniel shot up from the table and pointed to the floor below. “Security is dragging the fucker’s cheating ass out of here. Aww…he looks upset.” He laughed softly. “What do you want to bet he slits his throat before the night is through, or maybe he’ll run out in front of a car on the Strip.” He grinned at Jonathan and winked. “Either way, that’s another notch on _my_ pitchfork.”

Jonathan closed his eyes and sent a silent emergency communique to his superiors urging them to send an IG—a higher ranked angel called an Intervention Guardian—to the area immediately or this man’s soul was destined to suffer for eternity in Nathaniel’s “utopia of personal freedom and liberty”. When he opened his eyes, the man was gone and the gambling on the floor continued as if nothing had happened. Jonathan had done all he could do. He prayed the IG would get to him in time to save him.

They returned to their table. Nathaniel offered him a cigar. He politely refused.

“So, I take it you’re here to save Anita from the fiery pits of hell and damnation?” he asked, blowing fragrant smoke into the air.

It seemed the perfect time for Jonathan to finally get a word in edgewise and defend the moral principles that formed the basis of his existence. “Yes, she’s my case. But I’m here to offer her a choice. Contrary to what you seem to think, she has free will in this situation. She can choose your world or she can choose mine. My job as a rescuer is to provide her with all the information she needs to make the choice that is right for her. She’ll learn that Heaven is a place where she will be accepted and loved unconditionally. After her human death is complete, all of the trials and tribulations she’s lived through on this planet will be over. Her soul will live on and her life will have meaning beyond just her own selfish needs and wants. She’ll experience an eternal peace, abiding love and a sense of belonging she never had in her human life.”

Nathaniel blew some smoke rings. “You guys grow your own special brand of weed up there, don’t you? All that peace, love and harmony shit.” He laughed softly. “You’re all nothing but a bunch of stoners.”

Jonathan fought to remain calm and remember that every creature in existence was to be loved and cherished, even this mentally unstable demon who had elevated blasphemy to an art form.

Nathaniel raised his eyebrows and snickered. “I sincerely hope that annoyed frown on your face doesn’t mean you’re about to scorch my ass up with a lightning bolt from the heavens. I was just teasing you. Lighten the fuck up.”

They both fell silent, Nathaniel blowing smoke rings and staring off into space, and Jonathan trying to decide how to make a graceful exit so he could get back to work.

“About Anita,” Nathaniel said, finally breaking the strained silence. “That just sucks hairy monkey balls for you, my friend, because her soul belongs to _me._ ” A slight chill had returned to Nathaniel's gaze, reminding Jonathan of the earlier warning that he was dangerous and to be cautious. Then he smiled, and his eyes danced with humor once again. “You are the worst victim of Stockholm Syndrome I’ve seen in a long time. You’re brainwashed beyond all hope of redemption and naïve as fuck.” He sighed. “But I like your dumb ass for some reason, so I’m going to offer you a deal.”

Jonathan shook his head, ignoring the insults. He was becoming immune to them now. “I don’t make deals where Souls in Danger are concerned.”

“You haven’t even heard my offer!” he protested, then without waiting for a rebuttal, he continued. “I’ll put you up in my nicest penthouse suite at no charge. Free and unlimited food and drink and you can partake in any or all of the hedonistic activities I offer in my various enterprises.” He leaned forward and grinned. “And here’s the kicker. I’ll give you complete and unfettered access to Anita. You can do that soul-saving shit you do to your heart's content without any interference from me. Give it your best shot. And whatever she chooses, I’ll abide by the decision.”

Jonathan had swiftly come to the conclusion that this exiled demon sitting across from him waiting for a response—this inherently evil and troubled creature who was currently in the middle of a forced self-improvement phase in his life—was the sole reason why he'd lost those stray souls to The Enemy in the past. With unfettered access and no interference from Nathaniel, he knew who Anita would choose. He felt the satisfying glow of success and a job well done hovering just around the corner. It was a good deal and he planned to take it. But…

“You’re practically handing me a soul on a silver platter,” Jonathan pointed out calmly. “I don’t mean to be insulting, but you don’t seem like the kind of person who does things out of the goodness of his heart. So, what do _you_ get out of this deal?”

He took his time answering, stubbing out his cigar in an ashtray, an enigmatic smile playing on his lips. “I get you. While you’re working with Anita you stay here. In the future, if you’re working anywhere in the area, you visit me. We dine together, share a few drinks. I insult you. You get your wings all wadded up in a bunch and glare at me with holier-than-thou disapproval. You dump that sugary shit all over me about how great your Heaven is, and I respond with the most blasphemous thing I can come up with. I try to get you to understand how beautiful and free my world is while you look at me like I’ve lost my ever loving fucking mind. You try to save my poor pitiful soul and I try to corrupt the fuck out of yours.” He grinned. “It’ll be fun.”

It was at that very moment understanding dawned on Jonathan with such force he wondered how he could have been so stupid as to have missed the signs. He gave a silent prayer of thanks to his Father. Without His guidance, Jonathan could have easily missed this opportunity to help a hurting soul in need.

“You’re lonely,” Jonathan said softly. “The longing you feel for your home and family is so achingly powerful that it’s almost too much for you to bear. This world is not yours. It’s foreign, alien. You feel isolated and alone. You yearn to be back where you belong, where you are wanted and loved.”

Nathaniel refused to look at him, and instead stared off into the distance. He swallowed hard and said nothing in response.

“Even though we’re two different beings with differing philosophies and backgrounds, I sympathize with your plight,” Jonathan continued. “I’m not a slave or a menial servant, Nathaniel. I chose the heavenly life that I have. I wanted to be a force for good in this existence. But it has come with some sacrifices and none of them are easy for me to bear. I, too, miss my home. I miss the warmth and familiarity of being with others who understand me and who love me unconditionally. I ache for my family. I also feel isolated on this world. So…I accept your deal.”

Jonathan extended his hand across the table. Nathaniel glanced down at it, and without hesitation he clasped it and shook. “God, you’re such a fucking bleeding heart.”

Jonathan chuckled and squeezed his hand briefly before letting go. “I know. So sue me.”

He laughed. “Oh, don’t tempt me. I have some wonderfully corrupt lawyers who would leave you bare-assed and destitute with nothing but the quills on your back. Then they’d party like a rock star afterwards.”

They smiled at each other, then sat in companionable silence for quite awhile, both staring through the glass at the floor below. But Jonathan wasn’t really paying attention to what was going on. He was pondering the irony of an existence which would place a low-level guardian angel in the path of a lonely demon who just wanted someone to talk to while he was busy trying to improve himself, _and_ wreak havoc on the human race at the same time. The universe was definitely a little stranger today than it had been yesterday.

Nathaniel abruptly broke the silence once again. “I have a very unique strip club downtown called The Sacrilege. It’s deliciously blasphemous and wildly popular.” He studied Jonathan and sighed with what sounded like appreciation. “With that amazing body of yours you could haul in the cash. You wouldn’t even need any fake wings. The women, and quite a few of the men, would drool their asses off over you, my friend. Just think of the unlimited pussy you would have at your beck and call…or cock, whichever you prefer,” he added, smirking.

 _And so the fun begins,_ Jonathan thought as he pondered how to respond to Nathaniel’s offer. Pleasures of the flesh meant nothing to Jonathan. That wasn’t to say that his earthly body was defective. It functioned as it was meant to—he possessed the same human drives as every other male around him—but the power to resist temptation dwelled inside the mind, and Jonathan’s mind was strong, his will stubborn and tenacious. His purpose for being on this world was nobler than just the mere pursuit of carnal pleasures.

“Oh Satan preserve me,” Nathaniel moaned dramatically. “Please do _not_ tell me that they gave you that magnificent body and the most important parts don’t work. That would definitely be a sin of the worst kind.”

“Everything works fine,” Jonathan assured him without elaboration.

He perked up, interested, his gray eyes gleaming with mischief. “Are you a virgin? Have you fucked a woman before? Do you jack off to porn?”

Jonathan sighed and rolled his eyes. “This is a highly inappropriate conversation.”

“No, it isn’t! It’s a cultural exchange of need-to-know information!” he insisted.

Jonathan rose from his seat. He’d lingered long enough. It was time to get back to the reason he’d been sent here in the first place: Anita.

“I’m not telling you,” Jonathan said, smiling smugly. “You’ll just have to wonder about that for the rest of eternity.”

“Bastard,” he muttered under his breath.

Jonathan gently glared down at him, giving him a mild dose of angelic disapproval. “As to your kind offer, stripping is not a career I’m interested in pursuing. You should know that.”

Nathaniel shook his head and sighed. “Well you can’t blame a demon for trying. So, are you off to save the soul of my charming little crack whore?”

“I am, yes,” Jonathan answered politely. “And thank you for your kind hospitality…and the deal.”

Nathaniel stood and straightened his jacket and tie. He extended his hand. “You’re welcome. And good luck.”

Jonathan accepted his hand. Then he gave Nathaniel a stern, parental look. "And _you_ stay out of trouble while I’m gone. Can you manage that?”

Nathaniel snickered and raised three fingers in the air. “Scout's fucking honor."

He was lying of course. Jonathan may not have had any first-hand experience dealing with demons, but he also hadn't fallen out of his baby angel diapers yesterday. "Promise me, on your father and mother's eternal souls that you won't ruin anyone's life for the rest of the night."

Nathaniel sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. "Jesus Fucking Christ. You're pissing in my Cheerios, _and_ you're messing up the timetable on my self-improvement plan. You know that, right?"

Jonathan waited, fighting to keep the stern look on his face and not ruin the moment with a smile.

He sighed again. "FINE! I promise on my father and mother's eternal souls that I will fucking restrain myself for the rest of the night. Happy?"

Jonathan nodded, secretly pleased that his first small attempt to save this demon's soul had met with success. _I know it's a very tiny step, Father, but at least it's in the right direction._

"So, I’ll see you in the morning then?" Nathaniel asked. "We’ll talk some more.”

Jonathan smiled. “Definitely.” And strangely enough, he was looking forward to it.

 

 


	2. Lighting the Fuse

He hadn’t asked directions from Nathaniel on how to find Anita because he hadn’t needed them. Since Jonathan had spoken to her, had looked upon her soul, they were now spiritually connected. The connection wasn’t one that humans could actually feel—like the pain of a stomachache, for instance—but they could sense it on an unconscious level. Something in their lives felt different after contact with a Guardian, but they could never pinpoint exactly what it was that had changed.

But just because Jonathan was now on intimate terms with Anita’s soul didn’t mean his attentions would be welcomed. As he strode purposefully down the crumbling sidewalk, under the dim glow of a sun hovering just below the horizon, he prepared himself for the sting of rejection. It was common in the early stages of a rescue, but without Nathaniel’s interference, Jonathan was confident he would soon be gifting his Father with another lost soul.

Anita’s dwelling lay at the end of a dead-end street. Jonathan quickened his pace, aware that he was now in what looked to be one of the seediest parts of Las Vegas. Not that any of the neighborhood miscreants could kill him, but they could certainly harm his human form, and that was a distraction he didn’t want or need. Lucky for Jonathan, the street seemed deserted; the neighborhood still slept.

Anita’s nights were spent in desperation, but her days were spent in squalor. Jonathan eyed the dwelling where his SID resided. The brightness of the rising sun did nothing to improve the run-down appearance of her small, ground-floor apartment. The orange-yellow glow of morning failed to soften the rough edges of peeling paint. There was no moisture in the air, no kiss of dew glistening on the brown, half-dead shrubbery huddled against the building. Cartoon-character bed sheets hanging in the windows bravely tried to keep out the worst of the newly-risen sunlight.

He knocked and the door opened almost immediately, as if he were expected. Anita’s hair was disheveled, her eyes blood-shot and bleary. She’d changed out of her work clothes and was now dressed in baggy sweats and an oversized, faded t-shirt. A half-smoked cigarette dangled out of her mouth.

“Just come the fuck on in. It’s not like I have anything to do, except maybe get some fucking sleep. I _did_ work all night, you know.”

Jonathan apologized for the early hour of his visit and promised to keep it short.

“Nate told me to give you whatever you wanted, but just so you know, I ain’t dressing up for you,” she said, stabbing out her cigarette in a plastic I-Love-Las-Vegas ashtray. “What you see is what you fuck. And if you don’t mind, make it quick and keep it down. No screaming or yelling. Last thing I need is to get complained on by the neighbors.”

“I’m not here for sex. Like I said last night, I just want to talk to you.” Jonathan bravely stood his ground against her angry stare, and focused his attention on her soul. She was in pain this morning, spiritual pain, and it was more pronounced than it had been last night. Something had happened. Something was wrong.

She chuckled softly. “Oh, I get it. You’re one of the weird ones. You have some kind of talking fetish. You get off on that shit.” She nodded to herself. “Okay, so, what do we do? Stretch out on my little ratty sofa so you can get hard talking your balls off? Then what? Am I supposed to jack your beanstalk while you rattle on about how your wife or girlfriend just doesn’t understand you? Tell me, how’s this work? I’ve never had an intellectual john before.”

Jonathan held onto his frustrated sigh and focused on his greater purpose. “Something’s troubling you. I want to help.”

Her lips thinned. “I don’t need your fucking help. I don’t need _anyone’s_ help. So if that’s what you’re here for then just get the hell out.”

Normally, Jonathan would have left as ordered. He wasn’t one to wear out a first welcome, especially since he had practically unlimited time to save a SID, but this time was different. He couldn’t leave her, not yet, not until he discovered what it was that had her so desperately clinging to life’s ledge. He sensed she was ready to jump and he couldn’t allow that to happen.

“You _do_ need help,” he said softly. “You’ve reached a breaking point where you’re not sure you can go on, but taking your own life is not the answer, Anita. You cannot abandon the person in the other room.”

Jonathan realized he’d misjudged the depth of her anguish, and her anger, just seconds before she hit him in the face. She had the force of a lifetime of pain behind her punch, and he knew he was going to be sporting an impressive black eye by that evening.

“GET OUT!!”

In the echoing silence of her scream, a small noise caught Jonathan’s attention. Ignoring the pain in his eye, he looked behind her and Anita turned, following his gaze. She gasped at the sight of a little dark-haired boy in cartoon character pajamas hovering in an adjoining doorway, his big blue eyes wide and frightened.

Her anger was gone in an instant. “Ethan. Oh, baby, it’s okay. Mommy didn’t mean to be so loud.”

Jonathan smiled when Anita knelt in the floor and crooned to him assurances that he was safe and everything was all right. He heard nothing but love in her words, and was relieved to feel a lightening of her burdens as she comforted her child. This young one obviously held the key to his mother’s heart, as well as her soul.

As he knelt down before the little boy, he saw Anita in his peripheral vision, watching him warily. “Hello Ethan.”

“He can’t talk, or he _won’t_ talk. The doctors aren’t sure which it is.” She sighed softly. “He’s autistic.”

Jonathan looked inside Ethan and was surprised, as well as pleased, to discover that the soul inhabiting the little boy’s body was known to him. The Host was vast in number, but it was still rare to encounter a familiar face while on assignment. This unexpected, yet welcomed, connection with this little boy eased Jonathan’s loneliness in some small measure.

“Can you tell me the specifics of his condition?” Jonathan asked, directing his question to Anita, but keeping his gaze focused on the small trusting face staring mutely back at him.

As Anita explained the minute details of his autism, from birth to diagnosis and beyond, Jonathan pretended to listen, filing the information away in his mind to revisit later. Instead, while she talked, Jonathan had a silent conversation with an old friend.

 **Are you well?** Jonathan asked.

Ethan’s expression remained unchanged; his mouth never moved. But his spiritual warmth filled Jonathan’s mind with a comforting familiarity and an intense longing for family, friends and home.

_I am, but it is difficult being in this body. It doesn’t work correctly, which is frustrating for me. I fear for my earthly mother, but I am unable to do anything to help her. She is in so much spiritual pain that it is almost more than I can endure. She worries about me constantly, and does horrible things to make sure I am cared for. I never dreamed human life would be this hard, Jonathan._

**Your soul is strong, or you wouldn’t have been given this body to begin with. Our Father is wise in all things. We must trust Him. But you can put aside your fear for your mother now. That’s why I was sent here…to help her, to rescue her,** Jonathan assured him. **Can you tell me what is troubling her?**

_My caretaker—she watches me at night while mother works—quit last night. I don’t know why she quit, but now there is no one to care for me. She’s afraid social services will take me away from her, and if they do, then she says her life won’t be worth living anymore. She’s so tired, and she hardly eats at all. I wish I could speak to her, tell her I love her and that I want her stay with me, but I can’t make this body say the words. Can you tell her for me?_

Even though it would force him to reveal himself to her sooner than he’d planned, Jonathan couldn’t refuse such a heartfelt plea.  **I will.**

He turned his attention back to Anita and listened patiently while she finished her explanation of her son’s condition. When it was clear she was done, Jonathan finally spoke. “Ethan wants me to tell you that he loves you very much, that he’s worried about you, and that he wants you to stay with him. If you leave this life, Anita, it will hurt him deeply.”

She gasped, a trembling hand flew to her mouth; her blue eyes glistened, the unshed tears enhancing their beauty. Then, within moments, they narrowed with suspicion again. She dropped her hand and glared at him. “Don’t fuck with my head. I may be a whore, but I’m not stupid. I was here the whole time. He didn’t say one word to you. He’s non-verbal.”

“Non-verbal doesn’t mean an inability to communicate. I have a non-verbal autistic friend whom I’m very close to,” Jonathan said gently. Not precisely the truth, but extremely far from a lie—one of his better hedges, actually. “We communicate in our minds.” At her skeptical look he hurried on with what probably sounded to her like an explanation out of a science fiction film. “I know it sounds unbelievable, but I’m able to communicate with autistic people. But it’s not something I go around telling everyone I can do. They’d think I was…” Jonathan smiled and twirled his finger in a circle near his temple. “…and put me in a rubber room. Your son really did speak to me just now, in my mind. He told me your babysitter quit last night, and now you have no one to watch him while you work. He said you’re afraid that social services will take him away from you, and he doesn’t want that to happen any more than you do.”

A shocked whimper burst out of her mouth. She shot up from the floor, backed away from him, both hands together and covering her mouth as if she were in prayer. Tears streamed from her eyes. “Oh, God,” she sobbed. “It’s true. You really can talk to him.” She rubbed the moisture from her cheeks and took a deep breath. “Tell him I love him, too, and I am absolutely _not_ going to leave him.”

Jonathan smiled at the rush of spiritual love and warmth radiating outward from Ethan’s small body. He’d just made his friend’s day, and that made Jonathan’s existence that much happier. “I don’t need to tell him. He may not be able to speak, but he understands every word you say. He’s extremely intelligent, and his ability to love is profoundly deep.”

She opened her mouth to say something in response, but Jonathan gestured for her to wait; Ethan was “talking”.

_Please tell my mother I want her to hug me, but she must do it correctly or this body will reject her. I cannot tolerate a light touch against my skin, but if she hugs me hard, really, really hard, and squeezes, I will like that very, very much._

He repeated aloud what Ethan had told him. A radiant smile overtook Anita’s face, transforming her life-worn visage into one of beauty and hope. “I can do hard.” She nodded. “I’m real good at that.”

Jonathan chuckled. “I know. You sure _hit_ hard.”

She shot him an apologetic look, and returned to her son, kneeling in the floor in front of him and gathering his small body against her chest. Her arms were thin, but they were viciously strong. Ethan allowed her hug, welcomed it with joy, and it continued for a long time.

Jonathan smiled watching them. The warm glow of success was upon him, filling his mind and spirit with the hope and love that a rescue always brought with it. It was too early for celestial fireworks, of course, but the fuse had been lit. The odds were very, very good that Anita would choose salvation over damnation, and if there was one thing Nathaniel could appreciate, it was odds. Jonathan hoped his new demonic friend wasn’t a sore loser.

When mother and son finally pulled apart, Jonathan offered his services. “I can stay and watch him today while you get some sleep.”

She looked up at him from the floor, the shock evident on her face, which was understandable. Love and compassion from other people, especially strangers, were a rarity in her life. “You would do that for me?”

Jonathan nodded. “I would be happy to.”

She stood. “My real name is Sarah. I’m sorry for every ugly thing I’ve said to you.” She dropped her gaze to the corner of his eye. “And I’m sorry I hit you. That’s going to hurt like a son-of-a-bitch tomorrow.”

Jonathan laughed softly. “It hurts like one now.”

She grimaced and whispered another apology. Ethan was now sitting in the floor by the sofa, his attention focused on a blue toy train. Jonathan had to practically push her out of the living room and into the hallway, as she recited a long list of things he must do for Ethan while she slept.

“We’ll be fine. He can tell me whatever I need to know, remember?”

She stopped her recitation and stared at him, not just a look, but a penetrating stare, as if she could see into his soul if she concentrated hard enough. “Who are you?”

“I’m Jonathan Smith. I’m someone who loves you very deeply, just not in the way you’re used to. You’re not alone, Sarah.”

She huffed and shook her head. “Yeah, well that’s great and all, but I still need a babysitter.”

Jonathan smiled. There was an angel for that. “We’ll get you one, don’t worry. Now go rest.”

When he heard the sound of her bedroom door shutting, Jonathan sank down onto the sofa and watched Ethan play with his train.

_How are you going to get me a babysitter?_

Jonathan grinned. **I have connections in low places, my friend. This is a job for a Sensitive.**

He heard awe and adoration in Ethan’s thoughts, and the acceptance that his small family was going to be safe. He stared at the floor, pushing the train back and forth, back and forth, while Jonathan watched and listened.

_So, how are things back home?_

Jonathan sighed. **I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been there in awhile….**

 


	3. The Undecided

“Do you like the crib? It has all the amenities, but if there’s something you need that isn’t here, just ask.”

There was no need for Jonathan to hedge. “Yes, I do like it. It’s very nice. I doubt I’ll need anything. Thank you.”

All Jonathan truly required was a place to settle for the night, a place to lay his corporeal form— some nights pretending to sleep, others falling into a deep exhaustion because he’d pushed his human body to its limits. Most often, he passed his nights among the lost souls of this world—on the streets, huddled with the homeless around a barrel fire to warm his hands, or in an actual shelter. He wasn’t used to the luxuries that currently surrounded him.

“If I recall, I instructed Anita to fuck your brains out, not give you a black eye.”

Jonathan chuckled softly. “Your attempt to entice me to succumb to temptation was an admirable effort, but ultimately unsuccessful. Anita needed _spiritual_ love.”

Nathaniel rolled his eyes and snorted. “That spiritual love seems a little kinky to me. Did she tie you up and whip you, too?”

Jonathan sighed, ignoring Nathaniel’s tawdry comment. “Violence against my human form is not uncommon. I’m used to it. It will heal in a day or two. She is a broken soul, Nathaniel, but not so broken as to be beyond repair.” He gave his demonic nemesis a warm, but confident, smile. “I made great progress today. I hope you’re not a sore loser, my friend.”

Nathaniel barked a laugh. “I gave you this one… _my friend_ …on a silver platter.” His brilliant smile blinked out of existence. “If we were to go nose-to-nose and actually fight for these pathetic humans’ souls, you’d lose. Humans do love their debauchery. They’re bottom feeders by nature and so easy to corrupt.”

Thankfully his human form chose that moment to remind him he’d failed to feed it. His stomach growled loudly into the tense silence.

Nathaniel’s warm smile reappeared. “You’re hungry. Our dinner should be here soon. Let’s sit and get comfortable.” He gestured to a small table near the windows.

The view was enchanting, as was the case in all of the larger cities Jonathan had visited during his travels. A blanket of twinkling lights lie before him. Bright stars were sprinkled liberally across the clear night sky. A large moon hung in the heavens, illuminating the world below. The scene was just beautiful enough to convince the naïve that nothing bad ever happened out there, that the ugliness of the day somehow disappeared once the sun set and the stars descended. Sadly, Jonathan knew better.

“I’m curious about something, Nathaniel. May I ask you an impertinent question?”

Nathaniel eyes sparkled with delight. “Impertinent? Oh, I love impertinence, especially coming from you. Ask away.”

“If you hate these humans so much, why do you fight so hard for their souls?”

Nathaniel frowned, a look of incredulity taking over his face. “Why do I fight??” He leaned forward and grinned. “I want to _win._ And by the way, we’re not in a war, Jonathan. We’re playing a _game_ , a game of Celestial Chess, and you and I are the pawns. You see, your father and my leader despise each other, and instead of walking away from it and agreeing to disagree, they chose to play this game. And do you know what they’re playing for??” He chuckled ironically. “They’re playing for the right to control these pathetic excuses for a life form that _your_ father stupidly created when he got bored one day.”

Jonathan’s mouth hung open in astonishment. How was it possible for an intelligent creature to be so incredibly wrong?? How did he even start correcting the nonsense he’d just heard??

“We are not playing a game,” Jonathan stated emphatically. “The Fallen were disobedient and sinful—this is a fact—and that was why you were cast out of Heaven. And because of your people’s lust for vengeance against our Father for that act, _you_ have declared war upon the innocents of this planet. We are merely fighting back, on their behalf, to save them from _you_. My Father loves every one of His creations and He will never stop fighting you for their salvation.”

Nathaniel looked at the ceiling and sighed deeply, shaking his head. “You’ve swallowed the propaganda hook, line and sinker, my friend, but that’s okay. I’m not sure it really matters whether we’re playing a game or fighting a war. The important thing here is that the players, or the soldiers if you prefer, understand exactly what their role is. That’s the big difference between you guys and us. We know we’re being manipulated, but we fight anyway because we believe in complete freedom for all souls. You, however, fight because you’ve been brainwashed into thinking your father _controlling_ everyone is freedom, when, in actuality, it’s not. It’s just him wanting to win. These humans are just cannon fodder to him.”

Jonathan’s first reaction was to vehemently defend his Father and the noble cause for which they fought, but he bit back his retort, and instead, sat back in his chair and pondered Nathaniel’s words, attempting to be objective for once. It was difficult, probably the most difficult thing he’d ever done, but he forced himself to actually give Nathaniel’s accusations some serious consideration. Was this war they were fighting truly noble? Could it be possible that his Father’s only goal was victory over Satan, no matter the cost? Was everything he’d been told about the history of this celestial war a lie? And most importantly, could an omnipotent being of such power and vast love really be so superficial as to think that winning was more important than the methods used to attain that win??

Jonathan raised his eyes to Nathaniel’s, searching their depths for some indication of the man’s sincerity. He found a blank, indifferent stare reflected back at him. It was impossible for Jonathan to gauge his honesty, and with the sad shape his soul was in, looking deeper was a waste of time as well.

“Well? What do you think?”

Jonathan remembered the warning he’d received from his superiors, that Nathaniel was dangerous and to be very cautious. He realized, quite suddenly and with a great deal of mortification, what had just happened, and how close he’d come to betraying his Father in his heart. He focused his inner strength and welcomed the clarity that came with it.

“I think you’re very skilled at what you do,” Jonathan said softly. “And your father was very wise to send you here.” He smiled to let his demonic friend know there were no hard feelings. “You almost had me believing you. You’re good, Nathaniel, very good. A worthy adversary.”

His characteristic smirk flashed across Nathaniel’s lips. “Oh, stop. You’re making me blush!”

Nathaniel’s eyes were shining with delight and good humor; Jonathan was smiling, too. But inside, where no one but his Father could see, he was gravely unsettled. This demon was more dangerous than Jonathan had ever imagined. Tonight, his prayers for forgiveness and guidance were going to take much longer than usual.

_________________________________________

“You don’t like the food, do you? Be honest.”

Jonathan shook his head and laid down his fork. “I’m sorry, no. But it’s not the fault of your cooks. I only eat because this body requires it.”

“Why deny yourself pleasure? What’s the point in that??” Nathaniel asked, and he seemed genuinely interested.

Even if he had an eternity to debate it, Jonathan doubted his troubled friend would ever understand the concept of self-sacrifice for the greater good, since demons were selfish beings by nature. For Jonathan, the vices on this planet were nuisances to be overcome, roadblocks that continually got in the way of his purpose. Eating and sleeping just for the sheer pleasure of it was a waste of his valuable time. The sins of the flesh— of which there were many on this planet— were the hardest to resist, but he had never been seriously tempted, not even once.

Nathaniel was waiting for answer.

“The point is sacrifice for the greater good,” Jonathan said.

Nathaniel chuckled. “Is your Cloud Daddy channeling Kirk and Spock now?? That ‘needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one’ bullshit is nothing but altruistic Hollywood nonsense. On _my_ world, the needs of the one are—“

Jonathan shivered at the same moment Nathaniel abruptly stopped speaking. His quills stirred restlessly beneath his skin as a chill shot down his spine. Then suddenly, without warning, Nathaniel’s dinner plate shot up from the table, dumping the contents into his lap. His coffee cup slammed over onto its side, spilling the hot liquid all over Nathaniel’s hands and clothes.

“SHIT!!” Nathaniel screamed, rocketing up out of his chair, knocking it to the floor, and backing cautiously away from the table. His gaze darted around the room, narrowing suspiciously. “Do you feel that?” he asked softly, only briefly glancing Jonathan’s way.

Jonathan nodded. The temperature in the room had definitely dropped, and he also felt like they weren’t alone. He sensed that an invisible presence had just joined them for dinner, but he didn’t know its identity.

The fallen chair suddenly shot across the room, crashed into the wall, then rebounded back, dangerously close to where Jonathan was standing with his mouth open in astonishment. He barely got out of the way in time.

“Cunt,” Nathaniel snarled under his breath. Then he raised his voice and shouted to a seemingly empty room. “Knocking on the fucking door would be nice for a change!”

A ghostly feminine giggle filled the room, but Jonathan couldn’t pinpoint its exact location. It seemed to be coming from several places at once. His quills were trembling with unease, but he ignored his body’s warnings. Never, in his entire existence, had he ever experienced anything like what was happening in that room. His intense curiosity overrode his caution.

“Who is she?” he asked Nathaniel softly.

An evil grin overtook Nathaniel’s classic features. “She’s a fucking annoying ghost is what she is.” He raised his voice and yelled. “Aren’t you, _BRI- **ANN** -A!”_

Jonathan heard a high-pitched growl just seconds before another chair rose in the air and flew across the room in Nathaniel’s direction. He laughed and dodged it easily. “Ha! Your aim is as bad as your hairdo!”

The temperature in the room dropped even more. Jonathan shook from the cold, but his discomfort was soon forgotten as he watched a cloud of fog coalesce into a ghostly shape. This ghost Nathaniel called Brianna shimmered before him, her ethereal features screwed up into the angriest visage he’d ever seen.

“It’s _Bri- **AAH** -na_!” she snapped, sneering. “Like, get it right, fucking Penis Breath!! And I’m not a ghost! I’m a _poltergeist!_ I’ve told you that, like, a million times already!!”

“A poltergeist??” Jonathan whispered, shocked. He took a cautious step closer to the transparent glowering specter, unable to believe what he was seeing. She looked to be around nineteen or twenty years old and was outlandishly dressed in a style that was obviously no longer in fashion.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Brianna,” he said softly, careful to pronounce her name correctly. Nathaniel looked sharply his way, alarm suddenly etched on his face. Jonathan ignored him, for this was a momentous occasion. He’d heard about The Undecided, but he’d never actually encountered one. He simply could not let this opportunity pass him by.

“Well, well, _welllll,_ ” Brianna purred. “Who have we here?” Her black eyes, stark against the paleness of her skin, looked him up and down salaciously. Jonathan patiently allowed his body to be inspected before politely introducing himself.

“I’m Jonathan Smith and I’m a Guardian.”

Brianna’s depthless dark eyes narrowed. “A Guardian,” she repeated, her voice deceptively soft. “That’s, like, totally bitchin’.”

Suddenly the chill of the room draped itself over Jonathan’s body; the cold seemed to be rushing through his veins like an angry stream after a storm. Unseen icy fingers fluttered across his skin, sending shivers down his freezing back. His quills ached painfully.

Jonathan’s sense of self-preservation overrode his intense curiosity. It felt as if she was attempting to gain physical access to his soul, and that he would not allow. Jonathan’s will was strong, and he spoke with the confidence of his Father’s love and protection behind him. “The Lord is my strength and my shield,” he said. “My heart trusts in him, and he helps me. When the enemy comes in like a flood, the Spirit of the Lord will lift up a standard against him.”

As soon as the last word left his lips, Jonathan felt the icy chill of her ghostly presence leave him. Warmth rushed into his body to fill the frigid void.

A whisper of a giggle danced around the room. “Take a chill pill. I was just checking you out. You’re cute and a whole lotta sexy.”

Jonathan was unsure how to respond. To say nothing seemed rude, so he settled for a harmless, “Thank you. You’re very kind.”

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “If you two want to supernatural dry-hump, get a room.” He cautiously made his way back to the table and started cleaning up the mess from the floor. He talked while he cleaned. “Jonathan, meet Brianna, your friendly little neighborhood Valley Girl PolterCunt.” This time, at least, he pronounced her name correctly. “She’s a snobby little bitch who finally bit the big one, way back in the 80s, when she crashed her little red Miata into a tree. I guess her ego got in the way, which was why she couldn’t see the damned thing. Regardless, she decided she’s not going to play the game, like you and me. Her middle name is Switzerland now. She’s neutral. But you know all about the Undecided already, right?” Nathaniel cast a sly grin in his direction.

Jonathan curiously studied the ghostly apparition that was, at present, swirling slowly about the room like she was ballroom dancing. He was sure she’d throw another violent temper tantrum at Nathaniel’s insult, but she seemed oblivious to the both of them now.

“Yes, I know about them,” he answered, as Nathaniel righted the overturned chairs. The Undecided were spirits who, upon death, refused to choose between Heaven and Hell. They were souls who freely decided to spend their eternity on Earth, tormenting humans.

“She’s a pain in my ass,” Nathaniel continued, standing with his hands on his hips, his glare following the dancing specter as she glided around the room. “She won’t leave me alone. I tried to talk some sense into her, convince her that my world was her best option, but the chick is too stupid to recognize the truth when she hears it. She just does this throwing-chairs-around shit for attention, because her existence is as boring as watching grass grow. She’s too stubborn to admit she made the wrong choice.”

Jonathan agreed with Nathaniel’s summation. The Undecided were troubling to his Father, but he’d heard their resistance was tenacious. Now that he’d finally met one, Jonathan knew he was grossly unqualified to deal with them. “They need intense spiritual intervention,” Jonathan said.

Nathaniel snorted derisively. “Good luck with that. I’ve already tried every kind of intervention under the sun, spiritual and otherwise. Hell, I’d fucking pay you to get her whiny ass off my back, if I didn’t think it would be throwing good money down a rat hole. I’d trade you _fifty_ souls for her one, if you could just get her the fuck out of my city.” Nathaniel gestured to the table. “Sit. Let’s continue with our conversation.”

Jonathan obeyed, consuming the remains of his meal, while Nathaniel kept a wary eye on Brianna. She seemed to have lost complete interest in them, and Jonathan wondered why she was still hanging around.

Nathaniel leaned back in his chair, smiling crookedly as he turned the full force of his gaze on Jonathan’s face. “I imagine Big Daddy would shit puffy white clouds out his ass if you were to win over an Undecided, right? That would be like a major heavenly coup for you. You’d earn a huge pile of angel brownie points for that.”

“I’m not qualified to save the Undecided.”

Nathaniel slowly scratched his chin, his crooked grin holding. “How do you know? Have you ever tried? You seem very resourceful, very confident in your abilities. I think you should give it a shot.”

Jonathan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew his demon friend was manipulating him into staying longer, since it was a done deal he’d win Sarah’s soul and would be leaving very soon. But saving souls wasn’t a punching-the-time-clock kind of job. He was allowed as much time for a rescue as he deemed necessary. He’d never been chastised in the past for taking longer than he’d initially thought. And if he were to honest with himself—which he always was—he had to admit he was intensely curious about Brianna. Perhaps Nathaniel was right. Perhaps he should at least try to save this troubled spirit’s soul. He decided he would ask for guidance on this issue tonight in his prayers.

“I think that’s a noble idea, Nathaniel. Thank you for your confidence and your support. I shall give it a try, if my Father allows it,” Jonathan said, sporting his own crooked grin.

Minutes passed in companionable silence, as Nathaniel wisely left him to ponder this new and strange situation. Suddenly, it became even stranger.

_I know a secret…_

The words were spoken so softly it almost felt like they’d come from inside his mind, but he knew that to be impossible. He glanced at Nathaniel to see if he’d heard it, but he was currently answering a message on his phone. Jonathan didn’t know how to respond, so he waited patiently to see if the voice would speak again.

_It’s about Penis Breath. I know a big secret about him._

It was Brianna, and she was communicating with him in a way he’d thought only his Father could! He was shocked, but curiosity burned within him like never before. He thought his response in his mind: **_What secret?_**

A whisper of a giggle frolicked through his thoughts. _Maybe I’ll tell you...next time. IF you’re nice to me._

He waited for more, but there was only silence inside his mind.

 


End file.
